


Sorrow

by draculard



Category: Star Trek: Spock's World - Diane Duane
Genre: Friends to Lovers to Enemies, Kidnapping, M/M, Soul Bond, Teacher-Student Relationship, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22927276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Never has he had so adept a pupil.Never has he had so sweet a friend.
Relationships: Surak/S'task
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Sorrow

He knows the young man on his doorstep is different from the ones who came before. Surak has taught countless unwilling students the basic elements of _chthia_ ; what he’s never done before is taught a _willing_ student.

And the young man on his doorstep — the handsome young man with the broad, open features and the gentle smile — looks more than willing. 

Worse, he has that rare, innate advantage that Surak himself does not: a naturally placid demeanor, a forgiving attitude, a base personality so inclined to kindness that it’s hard to believe he has any emotions to manage at all. S’task is that rarest type of Vulcan:

He is steady.

* * *

He means it when he says that if he teaches S’task, it will only end in sorrow. He can’t say for sure how he knows this, but he does. He feels it roving over his skin like electricity, cautioning him against a coming storm. 

But S’task stays. He waits on Surak’s doorstep for ten full days, meditating, not eating, rarely sleeping. He goes without water the entire time, content to wait. 

Eventually, Surak’s curiosity burns too bright to ignore. He pushes down the instincts telling him to send S’task away.

He lets the handsome young man inside.

* * *

Never has he had so adept a pupil.

Never has he had so sweet a friend.

S’task doesn’t just come in and learn a while; the weeks pass, then turn into months, then into years, and S’task stays. He learns _cthia_ quickly; he’s a natural, after all, and soon enough he’s helping Surak edit his papers on philosophy, then helping write them.

They can pass long hours without speaking. Sometimes, when he’s meditating and S’task is out of the house, Surak can feel S’task’s presence without even touching his mind, can track him as he walks down the street and passes in and out of shops along the way. 

Sometimes they look at each other and know what the other is thinking. Sometimes their eyes meet and Surak sees a secret smile tugging at S’task’s lips.

He can’t help but smile back when that happens.

Never has he been so thoroughly understood.

* * *

They share their first kiss during the Winds, when all the planet’s inhabitants huddle inside for months to avoid the whipping sands. Their hands intertwine and Surak feels something tugging at his brain, a peculiar sensation of warmth like the type he feels on his eyelids when he naps beneath the evening sun.

And then, just like that, he is S’task, and S’task is him. 

And, _Why have we never done this before?_ Surak thinks.

In response, S’task only smiles and kisses him again.

* * *

They are both supposed to meet the Duthuliv delegation, but they take separate vehicles and arrive at different times. For S’task, this means he arrives fifteen minutes early — time enough to make sure his uniform looks presentable, to confer with the others present to meet the delegation, to go over his speech once again.

For Surak, this means he doesn’t arrive at all. His vehicle breaks down on the way and he’s still standing beside it waiting for help to arrive when he gets the news.

Hundreds of politicians and ambassadors killed. The rest taken hostage by the Duthuliv.

He tests their bond and finds it still intact. S’task is one of the hostages, then. 

Standing next to his useless vehicle, Surak can only close his eyes and breathe deep.

Confront his fear.

Move past it.

Think of a plan.

* * *

That night, during meditation, Surak is wrenched back to reality by the feeling of electricity sizzling up and down his spine. It isn’t the pleasant feeling he got when he first met S’task; it’s a numbing echo that branches out from his spine to his limbs, making him shake, lighting his nerve endings on fire.

Torture, he realizes as he gasps for air. They’re torturing S’task, and here, thousands of kilometers away, Surak can feel it. 

He pushes through the pain. 

_Be strong,_ he says to S’task. He sends courage and calmness down their link, chasing away the aftereffects of the electric surge. He gets a buoyant surge of emotion in return, no words: happiness that Surak is there, that Surak is talking to him. Hope for the future, for a quick ransom, for rescue. Humor, against all odds, that S’task’s timeliness has gotten him into such trouble while Surak’s much-maligned lack of punctuality has saved him.

Fear underneath it all.

Anger. Pain.

 _Be strong,_ says Surak again, because it’s all he can say.

This time, he gets no response.

* * *

He feels the hunger as time marches on and the Duthuliv refuse to give their prisoners food. He feels the sting of manacles on torn flesh; he feels the bruises forming, the fractured ribs, the cracked, broken feeling of S’task’s windpipe after they choke him.

He’s helpless to influence the rest of his planet. They retaliate to the Duthuliv’s attack with attacks of their own. Deadly, efficient, well-practiced. The art of _cthia_ is, for a short time, at least, lost.

And then the hunger dissipates.

The bruises abruptly fade.

Surak touches his ribs and feels no pain, no fracture. His windpipe is whole and healthy; he can speak without rasping. The skin on his wrists is abruptly smooth and clean.

The bond is broken.

* * *

It’s only a month later that he sees the news and learns S’task isn’t dead. He sees the broken bodies of the Duthuliv, the red alien blood on S’task’s hands. He sees his bondmate’s emaciated form and the fire in his eyes.

S’task’s voice is hoarse but strong at the same time. There is footage of him leading the other prisoners in revolt. There is footage of him breaking his own torturer’s spine in two.

He is alive. The relief which sweeps through Surak wipes out all else. There are tears in the corners of his eyes as he bows his head and tests the link.

 _S’task,_ he says, and pours all his love and loneliness and sorrow into it. _S’task, answer me. I’m here._

* * *

Nothing.

The bond is broken still.


End file.
